Switch
by Loki Milano
Summary: What happens when Hell is left without it's King, and the Angels are cast out from heaven? (Spoilers for S8 )
1. Prologue

Once upon a time, on a dark spring night, the sky was lit up. By hundreds and thousands of fireballs. Shooting stars, perhaps? Meteor shower? Fireworks? To the people who didn't know, it was a magical, one-of-a-kind sight. To those who did…each spark tore a little piece of their hearts away. Angels. All of them. Falling. Crashing to a green and blue marble called Earth. None felt it so keenly as a dark-haired, blue eyed man. Freezing in the cold air, despite his long tan trench coat. Or the brothers sinking to their knees outside an abandoned church. The younger unable to support himself, except on the older. A few miles away an icy blade of fear, anger, hurt plunged into the coated man's chest, and he was stricken dumb. Every time he saw a flame hit the ground, he flinched, feeling each one as if it was himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could stop it happening by not seeing it. His blood pounded in his ears, and his chest tightened as his strength left him.

Then there was silence. Absolute, complete. Even with his eyes closed he squinted at the brightness that surrounded him. Alarmed, they suddenly flickered open. He had no idea where he was. Not really. There was long grass, and he was by a lake. The sky was a gleaming blue, sparkling on top of the water. He felt dizzy as he spun around, taking in the flowers, and trees, sounds gradually revealing themselves to him. He shielded his gaze as a figure came into view, emblazoned with white fire. There was something familiar about the silhouette. Stirring long forgotten memories.

"Well. This is a mess, isn't it?" The voice was crystal clear, definitely male. And familiar. "I think you're going to need this."

"Cas…?" another voice, distant, "Castiel?" Tinny. Female.

The figure started at a run towards him. There was the odd flash of colour, bright purple, chestnut brown, a splash of green. He sunk down into darkness once more. The next thing he was aware of was lifting slightly off the ground, as something warm enclosed him, shaking him awake. As his eyelids fluttered open, he realised somebody was supporting him in their arms, and looking down at him with intense concern. As things came into focus, he saw a young, fair-skinned thing with bright green eyes, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Mel?"

He struggled to sit himself upwards. He was much taller than she was, but he still, to his annoyance, had to lean against her for support. The girl's face, she must have been no older than 19, lit up and her eyes started shining with tears. She pulled him close and hugged him tight. He subconsciously breathed in an old familiar scent, roses and vanilla, with a hint of citrus. The purple he had seen was the somewhat battered sneakers she wore , a colour that reminded him of much happier times.

"It's really you! You're alive! And…human?"

"So are you. Alive, I mean."

"Uhm, yea. I guess," she looked down and scratched the back of her head. "Not that I know what's happening. I just saw…" she trailed off.

There was a solemn silence between the two of them for a moment Mel rested against him, half hiding behind him. Like she had when she was small and got scared.

"What's going on Cas?"

He took a long time to answer, and refused to even look at her, instead he focused on the floor to the left of him as he considered his answer.

"Naomi tortured me, and Metatron tricked me."

"Oh, my poor brother," she sighed, "Will you ever learn?"

"It would appear not."

Full of frustration, he struck the ground with his fist, ignoring the pain that shot through his arm and stones cutting into his knuckles. Startled, Mel jumped, but didn't pull away. Her eyes were wide as she flicked them from side to side, checking they were alone, before she swallowed and turned to face him. She took his bleeding hand and gently held it in her own. He was unused to someone showing him such affection, let alone another angel, and glanced at her, a mixture of confusion and thankfulness on his face.

"You don't hate me? After what I did?" His voice was so simple, so matter of fact that it hurt her.

The young brunette pressed a kiss to his injuries, and looked at him, "I don't…but you should be aware that…other people probably do.

She stood up, and gently pulled him to his feet with her. Now they were standing it was clear just how tiny she was in comparison, "But we'll jump that bridge when we get to it." She wrapped her arms around his waist, as it was the only part of him she could easily reach, "Right now, we have to focus on fixing things. Ok?"

The older angel stayed perfectly still.


	2. First Steps

He furiously scribbled signs and symbols everywhere, at every corner of every room. The windows and doors were absolutely coated, and there were heaps of salt in front of them. His fingers were bleached bright red from the amount of spray paint he had been using over and over. Finally satisfied, he turned to his younger brother, drawn, pale, and red-eyed.

"I figured the demons are going to be pretty pissed we tried to lock them up," he subconsciously fiddled with his knife before arming his gun, "And with you not quite at full capacity, this is the safest bet."

"Safe, huh," Sam gave a sceptically, tired smirk, "So what, we just sit here and wait for…something?"

"It is a bunker. So essentially, yes," Dean paced the floor in front of him, clutching his weapons and looking out of the window every five minutes. "Castiel! If you can hear me! Get your feathery ass down here!"

Sam glanced down, "Dean…you saw what I saw, I don't think..."

"No. Just no. He's out there, somewhere. He has to be." He tossed Sam a gun, "I'm going for a supply run. We may be holed up in here a while. You good?"

Sam nodded, pretty sure if he said anything else it would mess with his brother's head even more. Dean gave him a short look, before stashing the gun in his jacket and heading for the door. As soon as he was out, Sam remade the line of salt in front of it. He was absolutely exhausted and felt terrible. He fell back into his bed, running a hand through his hair and staring at the ceiling. He was completely overwhelmed by tiredness and his eyes started fluttering closed. He drifted off into a peculiar dream, finding himself sat on a small wooden bench looking over a garden into which the sun was just setting. There was a man next to him, but his face was obscured by bright lights that hurt Sam's eyes.

"You don't look so good Sam," said his companion, "How are you holding up?"

"Fine," he replied shortly, "Who are you?" He had spent enough time with other people in his head confusing him and screwing him up that he didn't trust anything like the situation he seemed to find himself in.

"Relax Sam. I'm on your side. There's just not much I can do at the moment."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Trust me, for now. I know that doesn't come easy for you. But you've got a big job on your hands."

Sam scoffed, "Yea. I gathered."

The man sighed, "Just head east."

With that, the younger Winchester woke up back in the bunker and sat bolt upright, looking around for any sign of this mysterious figure whose face he didn't even see. Everything in his brain urged him to ignore what he had said and head as far away in the opposite direction as he could possible get. But his instincts wondered what exactly was out there. Now his only job was to convince his brother that they should follow the advice of what might not even have been a real thing.

* * *

"I don't know about this," mumbled Castiel.

"Cas, if we're stuck here we need to fit in. To fit in we need a place to stay. To get a place to stay we need money," sighed Mel, rolling her eyes.

"Don't you have any already?"

The young woman cocked an eyebrow, "Sorry, left my wallet with my other wings."

She realised right away she had made a mistake and bit her lip as Castiel froze in place and looked down. They were standing in the high street of a small town, he had the expression of a kicked puppy on his face and people gave them sideways glances, until Mel put a hand on his shoulder and smiled embarrassedly up at him.

"Stop beating yourself up bud. It's not your fault, alright?"

She stared at herself and her brother in the reflection of the window, and understood why people kept looking at them. They had walked for a very long time until they found a river, and some civilisation. They had managed to clean up a bit, but they both looked exhausted, and their clothes were worn, and they had almost walked through the soles of their shoes. She quickly looked away and they carried on to the end of the street, keeping their heads down, aside from occasionally glancing in shop windows. As they came to a crossing they looked up and saw a slightly shabby looking diner, The Copper Box. They didn't care too much about how it looked on the outside, they were focused on the 'Help Wanted' sign in the window. Mel stopped so suddenly Castiel walked in to her, before glancing at her with curiosity.

"How about here?"

"Why would they hire us? We don't have any skills diners generally require."

"That's where you bluff. I've seen enough TV and read enough to sort of get how it works. You take orders, you wash dishes."

"But we have no experience, or references…"

"Cas, this sign is so old it's faded and curling. I'm guessing they're pretty desperate. Come on."


End file.
